Le Divorce
by Lily Brennan
Summary: Modern day AU EC Erik is forced to marry, or else he won't inherit. Christine is forced to marry, or starve. When the two meet and strike a bargain, what will happen? ...Not cliche! As IC as possible, and NO Mary Sues! R&R Please!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"Life is funny," she said quietly, her brown eyes downcast.

"What?" He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I mean, it's not 'HaHa' funny, but... odd... ironic," she replied, washing the dirty plate in her hands with a little more force.

"Dare I ask what brought on these depressing thoughts?"

"I was thinking about our arrangement. How it started." She glanced at him briefly. "How it's ending." She rinsed the clean plate and set it on a towel on the counter.

"... I see."

"I don't think you do."

"I await your inevitable elaboration with bated breath." He muttered sarcastically.

She took a deep breath. "Well," she said, "it was never quite as horrible as you let on, and I shall be sorry to see this chapter of my life close. That's all."

"Is it really?" He asked, his face inscrutable.

"... Yes." She picked up a steak knife in her shaking hands and scrubbed at it furiously.

"Very well." He placed a thin stack of papers on the tile of the kitchen island that kept a safe distance between them. "Sign these and I'll be off."

"A-alright." She replied, then let out a pained cry as the knife she'd been cleaning took a mean stab at her palm. She dropped the knife and it clattered noisily into the metal sink.

"Why are your hands shaking?" He asked frustratedly, coming around the island and pressing a clean dry cloth napkin over the wound. "The lawyer will never accept the signature if he can't tell it's yours!"

"I'm fine!" She shouted, tears gathering in her eyes from pain and something else. "Leave me alone, will you!"

He let out a sharp breath and procured a pen from the breast pocket of his suit, setting it on the counter by the papers, and released her hand. She recomposed herself and examined her palm. It was only a flesh wound. She replaced the napkin and applied pressure.

"How can you be so calm?" She asked. He knew she wasn't talking about the knife incident.

"No sense in being upset. We both knew what we were getting into from the start. Now sign the damn papers!"

"Did we? Did we _really_ know what we were getting into."

"..."

"I don't know if I did."

"... I don't know what you want me to say."

"Do you regret... marrying me?"

"..."

"Please answer me, you know I can't stand it when you're quiet."

"No."

"No what?"

"No, I don't regret marrying you."

"Then _why _do this?"

"This is the deal. Our bargain; it's over. You're Christine and I am the Phantom, and our six months is up. It was... acceptable, while it lasted. That's all."

"Is it really?"

He paused, his eyes burning into hers, their faces so close they were almost touching. She read the answer in his eyes before he even opened his mouth to reply.


	2. In Which the Stage is Set

A/N: Thanks to The Sunday Wife for all of her help in getting this story off the ground and helping me work out all the kinks. She's the one that I have brainstorming sessions with when I need help. Anything you like is probably something that she put in. Go check out her story and leave her a review, please! You'll enjoy it!

Also, I gave Nadir a wife and child again, because I so love to see him happy.

**Chapter One:**

**In Which the Stage is Set**

Erik stared at Nadir in disbelief that was quickly turning to anger.

"She WHAT?!" He roared, his mismatched eyes furious. "That _evil_ woman dares to attempt control from beyond the grave?"

"A rather successful attempt, too, unfortunately," replied Nadir, his dark complexion paling a bit in the face of Erik's wrath. "There is no possible way around it. You must find a woman to marry within three weeks, or you lose your inheritence." At the look his client gave him, Nadir continued quickly. "_But_, after many hours of scouring the will for a loophole, we found that there is no stipulation as to how long the marriage must last. You can marry and then divorce almost immediately."

"I don't think she meant for me to marry at all," Erik growled, absently touching the mask that covered his face. It was a constant reminder that no woman would _ever_ marry him unless forced.

"Erik-" Nadir started, but Erik interrupted.

"No!" He ranted. "I really think she meant it all as a cruel joke. One last jab at her disfigured son. Good one mother! Your revenge is at long last complete! You may rest easy in your coffin now!" He slammed his hand down on the table he'd been circling, then let out an angry curse when the fragile skin of his palm split. Blood dripped onto his side of the table and the carpet of the Nadir's private library. He cradled his injured hand to his chest, not caring when his immaculate suit was stained crimson.

"Erik," said Nadir sternly, "you must calm down."

The masked man took a deep, steadying breath and nodded his ascent. "I apologize, Nadir."

The olive-skinned man waved a hand dismissively and stood from his seat. "Are you alright?" He asked, looking concerned.

Erik stared at him oddly for a moment before he responded. "Yes," he said slowly, looking down at his hand. He leaned against the books stacked on ceiling high shelves behind him, taking some comfort in being close to one of the few things he had always been permitted to enjoy.

After a moment, Nadir sat down once more and began sorting through the papers on his side of the table and pulling one out. "This is a copy of the section of your mother's will pertaining to you. Read through it tonight and get back to me tomorrow. Let me know what you decide."

Erik snorted. "There's nothing to decide," he said matter-of-factly. "No one would marry me. Not even for a day."

Nadir frowned. "Just think on it, Erik. That's all I ask. I'm sure a solution will present itself."

Erik shook his head, back straight and shoulders squared despite his defeated attitude. _Not this time, _he thought. _I might as well go file for bankruptcy._ Still, to put Nadir's mind to rest, he walked around the table and took the papers from him. Nadir then called in his assisstant, who tended Erik's injured hand cautiously. The smallish, bumpy looking sort of man never once looked Erik in the face, and scurried away as soon as he was permitted. Nadir apologized. Erik cut him off and said it was nothing.

The two men then said their goodbyes, and Erik left his lawyer's private study. Outside of the large townhouse, he hurried to his vehicle, dreading being seen by anyone. Sliding into the front seat of a modest, but clean, black car, he drove off into the darkness of the night. Toward home. He was bloody exhausted.

---

"Christine Daae!" Screeched an old, bow-backed woman who was hobbling down the hallway of a delapidated apartment building. "22B!" She called, pounding on the so numbered door. "Open up! Your rent is late _again_! Pay up now or get out!"

The door creaked open and a young woman with pale, delicate features stared calmly at the crotchity hag before her.

"Of course Mrs. Valerius," She said loudly into the hall. "Come in and I will pay you right now."

Mrs. Valerius nodded sharply and entered into Christine's apartment, looking for all the world like she had a rolling pin hidden somewhere on her person and was about to start using it to crack some heads. Once the door was shut behind her, however, her demeanor softened. "You know how much I hate doing this to you, Christine," she said, "but you must understand; I can't afford to keep letting you stay here for free. I know you're trying to get back on your feet, but it's been three months. I can't wait any longer for you to pay me. I'm sorry." And she truly looked it.

Christine simply handed Mrs. Valerius a thick white envelope. "For your help," she said.

The older woman didn't even open the envelope, just stuffed it in one of the many pockets stitched into her sweater.

"I'll be out in two days. Is that alright?" Christine asked.

Mrs. Valerius said yes and nodded, her wig bobbing with the movement. She patted Christine kindly on the shoulder and exited the room. "Alexander Rodriguez! 29B!" She shouted as soon as she was in the hall. "Your rent is due I need it n-"

Chrisitne closed her apartment door, muffling the sounds from the hallway. She put her back against the door and sank to the floor, her head in her hands. What was she going to _do_? She had nowhere to go. It was by sheer luck that she had found a place to live for three months. The money she had just given Mrs. Valerius was the last of her inheritance. She was completely out of money.

She raised her head from her hands and looked around the small, one bedroom apartment that had been gloriously hers for a short time. There were no pictures on the walls, no flowers on the rickety looking table, and no carpet on the moldy wooden floor, but Christine had called it home. And now, once more, she was being forced to leave a place she had come to care about. Pushing herself up off the floor, she walked over to the phone hanging on the wall above the kitchen trash can. Picking it up, she decided to call her lawyer, the man she had put in charge of all of her financial dealings and her father's will.

She waited as the phone rang, nervously chewing on one of her fingernails.

"Hello, this is Nadir Khan's private office, how may I help you?"

"Yes," replied Christine, "I'd like to speak with Nadir for a moment, please. Could you tell him it is Christine Daae?"

"Hold please." A moment later the line clicked back on. "He will be with you in a moment."

"Thank you."

"Hello, this is Nadir."

"Nadir," Christine greeted the man on the other end. "How are you?"

"Fine. You?"

Christine sighed. "Horrible. I have two days to find somewhere else to live before I get kicked out of my apartment. I still haven't found a job. I- I need help."

Three was a pause on the other end, and then; "What can I do?"

"Do you know anyone who will give me a job? Any job at all?"

"Christine, not many people will hire someone who never finished their schooling."

"I know that! Why do you think so many people have been refusing to hire me?"

"So finish school."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It is."

"In theory. Just help me find a job, it's my only hope. A job and a place to stay. Please."

Nadir was silent for a moment. "Alright." He sighed. "Allah help me if my wife disagrees."

Christine sighed in relief. "Thank you Nadir."

"I'm doing this for your father. He was a good man. I'll talk to you in the morning."

"Thanks again. Bye."

Christine hung the phone on the hook and went into her bedroom to begin packing up her things.

A/N 2: Thanks to everyone for the great reviews! I replied to all that were signed or left an email addy. Keep up the good work:)


	3. In Which the Players Meet

A/N: Thanks for all of the awesome reviews, and once more, please go check out The Sunday Wife here on It's thanks to her that this has gone from a bit of dialogue on my laptop to a story on Fanfiction. Aaaaaaaaand, all credit for Erik's 'day job' and the hilarity that could quite possibly ensue, go to The Sunday Wife as well.

Also, cookies to anyone who catches The Princess Bride and Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy references in this chapter. :)

**Chapter Two**

**In Which the Players Meet**

Erik groaned and rolled over in his bed to look at the neon numbered clock that was glaring at him. It read 6:00 a.m.. He sighed. He had only been asleep for about an hour and a half. He tossed and turned for a few minutes, trying to return to a dreamless slumber, but it was useless. He gave up and pushed the bedsheets from off his pajama clad body, sitting up and staring into the darkness of his bedroom. It was completely silent, but for the sound of his breathing. It was the perfect time for him to think, even though he'd been trying to avoid it for the past three days. He ran a hand absently through his hair as thoughts flooded through his weary mind.

How in the seventh level of hell was he going to find a woman stupid or desperate enough to marry him? Not one woman in his nearly 37 years of life had taken the least bit of interest in him, and he wasn't expecting a miracle now. He gently rubbed his right hand over his uncovered face, while his left hand, thickly bound with bandages, groped for the mask sitting on his nightstand. The moment he grasped it, he placed it over his face and breathed a sigh of relief.

He hated taking off his mask, even while he slept. He felt exposed without it. He _was_ exposed without it, and it always set him on edge. Only one person had ever seen him maskless, and he dare not repeat that. Her shrieks of horror still echoed in his perfect ears. Even looking at himself without a mask in the mirror was a jarring experience. The porcelian facade had become more his identity than his own face had ever been, and to see himself without it was always disconcerting.

He got out of bed, walked the short distance to the light switch on the wall, and flipped the light on. His bedroom was sparsely decorated. It was the room of a bachelor, but a well-read and obesessively clean one. Books lined the walls, sitting on cheap metal shelves, all of them in alphabetical order, first by author, then by title. A few books and some pieces of parchment with scribbles on them sat on a small wooden desk in the corner farthest from the door. A double bed was budged up against the wall next to the door. A sheet-covered mirror hung on the wall opposite the bed, and a small sheet-covered window was on the wall next to that.

There were no pictures in the room. There was only a drawing, torn from a notepad and tacked to the wall, of a young woman with thick, curling hair, and eyes that seemed to dance with happiness.

Erik walked over to his bed and gently kneeled beside it, pulling out a thin tote box from beneath it. From that tote box he took his clothing for the day. He didn't need to go out anywhere yet, so he put on a long-sleeved baggy black shirt and a pair of loose-fitting jeans, avoiding looking at his body as much as possible.

What a waste of time, he thought, as he pushed the tote back underneath his bed. What was the point in even getting dressed when he wasn't going anywhere? His job certainly didn't require immaculate attire. In fact, it hardly required any attire at all. He could very well do his job naked and no one would say a word.

He sighed as he walked out of his room and into the rest of his apartment.

He hated Thursdays.

To his left was the kitchen, to his right the restroom, and straight ahead was the living room/work room. After grabbing something to eat out of his sparsely stocked refridgerator, he went into the living room and sat at his work station. He booted up his computer, and pulled the phone a little closer. Glaring at the computer screen with loathing, he opened a program, picked up the phone, and dialed the number on the screen that said to call before eight in the morning.

"Hello?"

"Good morning ma'am, are you the lady of the house?" He asked, his voice low and seductive.

"Yes," came the impatient reply.

"My name is Erik, and I represent-"

"Not interested!"

BEEP BEEP BEEP...

Damnit! Usually his Seductive Voice worked on women over the phone! He slammed the reciever down into its cradle and checked the little box next to the phone number on his computer. He growled. He did _not_ need this right now. His shoulders tensed as he made the next phone call.

"Yello," came a high-pitched female voice.

"Good morning, ma'am-"

"Are you a telemarketer?"

Erik rolled his eyes skyward and begged for patience. "... I'm a sales representative from-"

"I'm sorry, I don't have time right now."

"When would be a good time to call back?"

"... ... Never."

BEEP BEEP BEEP...

After three hours of the same treatment, the straw finally broke the camel's back. Grabbing a long coat from the hanger by his front door, he left his apartment in a huff and headed for the only other place he felt remotely comfortable.

---

Christine set her bags down in the entryway of Nadir's home.

"Where would you like me to put them?" She asked him, when he greeted her at the door.

"Oh, just leave them there. Raoul will get them. Follow me, please. Come meet my family."

"Alright," she agreed nervously. Even though her father had been aquainted with Nadir for years, she had never seen his family before.

He led her out of the entryway and down a long, many doored hallway. She looked at the paintings hanging on the walls as they passed. A few family photos were occasionally hung inbetween them.

"In here, please," instructed Nadir, ever the gentleman. She followed him into a sitting room decorated in a lush, middle eastern theme. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a plush red couch, where a woman and a young boy were sitting.

"Hello Mrs. Khan," Christine greeted the woman kindly, walking up to her and shaking her hand. "And may I ask your name?" She directed the question at the boy, Nadir's son. He shrunk back into the couch cushions a little, but smiled shyly and said; "Reza."

"Pleased to meet you both." Christine smiled brightly.

Reza blushed and hurried from the room. Mrs. Khan shook her head and smiled lightly. "That boy, sometimes. I swear..." She murmured affectionately. She then turned her eyes on Christine and her gaze cooled a little. "A pleasure, I'm sure. Excuse me," she said, not unkindly, and walked from the room.

Nadir scratched the back of his neck, obviously embarrased. "My wife is... That is, she doesn't... I'm afraid you won't be able to stay with us long, Christine."

Christine wasn't sure how to respond to that, but she didn't want Nadir to feel uncomfortable, so she nodded and said; "Alright."

"Let me show you to your room," he said, gesturing for her to follow him. They exited through the same door that they entered, and retraced their steps down the long hall. A few doors down from the sitting room, Nadir opened a door and led Christine in. "This is where you will be staying."

Christine's eyes were wide, and her mouth gaped open. The room was bigger than her entire apartment had been. "It's- it's beautiful." And it was. The walls were covered in a light shade of blue, and there were two wide windows covered by gossamer curtains on the wall opposite the door that let an ethereal glow into the room. A large four-poster bed with white pillows and sheets sat against the wall to her left. She had the sudden urge to run up an jump onto it, but she resisted and instead asked Nadir how long she could stay there.

"I don't know. A few weeks, maybe."

"Okay. Thank you so much for your hospitality." Christine's smile widened. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"I think I might," Nadir muttered, so lowly that Christine didn't hear him. Then, louder, he said; "I'll leave you to it, then. The kitchen is at the end of the hall on the left, and there's a bathroom through there." He pointed to a door that Christine had assumed to be a closet on the wall across from the bed. "I'll be in my study if you should need something. It's down the hall, to the left, and through the conservatory."

"You have a music school in your home?"

"I like to think of it as a... side project. Are you interested in music?"

"A little," she replied.

"Anytime you would like to, go ahead and visit the conservatory. They won't give you free lessons, but they will allow you to watch, at least."

"Thank you," she said. "That would be nice."

"You're welcome." He left, closing the door behind him.

She let out a happy sigh and ran over and flopped on the cushy bed. It was every bit as heavenly as she had thought it would be. She was asleep within moments, exhausted from the night's packing and past week's emotional stress.

---

Gaston, the lumpy little man who had bandaged Erik's hand, answered the front door when a knock sounded throughout the entrance hall.

"Bonjour," he said, as he opened the door, only to let out a pitiable squeek when he saw who had done the knocking.

"Is Nadir at home?"

"Oui, monsieur Erik. Zis way, pleaze."

"Is he in his office?"

"Oui."

"I can find my way there."

Erik left Gaston bumbling in his wake. He walked the long, mazelike path from the front door to Nadir's office with relative ease. He had a photographic memory, so he remembered exactly where each twist and turn that he had ever been down led. On his way there, he heard a horrendous... something... A racketing, vulgar noise, which was coming from one of the rooms on his right. As he drew closer to the sound, he reconized it for what it was: snoring. His face twisted in displeasure, and he continued on quickly to avoid having to hear it any longer. Who in the world would be sleeping at this time of day? It was nearly eleven-thirty in the morning! He continued down the hall and turned left at the end, passing through the conservatory; his favorite location in Nadir's home. The sound of someone singing echoed from one of the back rooms, and someone else playing the piano came from another. He had always had a great love for music, and his dream was to someday become a published composer. He just needed a better day job, first. He wished he could stay in music room longer, but he had business to attend to. He exited the conservatory and found himself in the entryway to Nadir's study. He knocked sharply on the great wodden double doors before him.

"Yes," came the muffled reply from within. "Just a moment."

The doors opened noiselessly from the inside, and Nadir smiled when he saw who it was.

"Greetings, my old friend. How are you this fine morning?"

Erik didn't reply, merely walked into the study and began perusing the books along the walls.

"Who was sleeping in the guest room down the hall? They snore like a donkey."

"Christine Daae. Her father was an aquaintance of mine, and a very good man. She's homeless right now, and out of money, so she's staying with me for a few weeks until we can find a more suitable arrangement."

Erik nodded and changed the subject.

"I find that, after reading through my mother's will, I am left with very little choice," he said. "I hate my job, and I want to be able to compose without interruption. The inheritence will allow me to do that. But how I am to find such a woman, who will not dispel the details of any arrangement we come to, and who is trustworthy, and who will not rob me blind in the night?"

Nadir closed the doors and proceeded to sit in one of the plush leather chairs by the unlit hearth. "I honestly do not know. We could hire a woman of... irreputable employ," he offered hesitantly. "Buy her off after it's all said and done with."

Erik glared at him. "I refuse to sully myself by keeping the company of scarlet women."

Nadir laughed. "Scarlet women?"

Erik's glare lightened somewhat, but did not disappear. "Then what do you suggest?"

"Ziza has a sister," Nadir said slowly.

"I doubt your wife would sell her sister so short," Erik drawled sardonically.

"She should be so lucky," muttered Nadir.

"What is wrong with her?"

"She smells of cashews and looks like a greased pig."

"You are possibly the meanest brother-in-law on the planet."

"I speak only the truth," said Nadir, piously.

The two men heard a knock at the door, interrupting their banter.

"Come in," said Nadir.

One of the doors opened and in walked a young woman, probably no older than nineteen. She looked haggard and drained.

"There was a banging outside that woke me up, do you know what it is?" She asked Nadir.

Erik sunk into the shadows in the corner of the study he was nearest to. He eyed the girl with interest. So _she_ was the one in the guest room...

"I have someone building a swingset out back for my son. I'm sorry if it disturbed you." Nadir apologized.

"No, no," Christine waved her hands lightly, "no disturbance. I was just wondering what it was. I shouldn't have been asleep anyway. It _is_ nearly noon."

Erik decided to sieze the opportunity that had presented itself, and stepped forward into the light of the room.

"Hello."


	4. the Mother of Invention is Introduced

Can I thank you enough for all of your reviews? I don't think so, but I shall try. Thank you all so much!

A/N:

I also can't apologize enough for how long it's taken me to update this story that you all have so kindly let me know you enjoy. I cannot account for the time that has passed, other than to say I have been through a lot and I am now getting over it and trying to finish all of my stories. You might want to go back and read the first chapters again since it's been so long.

And now, on to the chapter that could never be worth an entire TWO YEARS of waiting...

**Chapter Three**

**In Which the Mother of Invention is Introduced**

_Last time..._

_The two men heard a knock at the door, interrupting their banter._

_"Come in," said Nadir._

_One of the doors opened and in walked a young woman, probably no older than nineteen. She looked haggard and drained._

_"There was a banging outside that woke me up, do you know what it is?" She asked Nadir. _

_Erik sunk into the shadows in the corner of the study he was nearest to. He eyed the girl with interest. So she was the one in the guest room..._

_"I have someone building a swingset out back for my son. I'm sorry if it disturbed you." Nadir apologized._

_"No, no," Christine waved her hands lightly, "no disturbance. I was just wondering what it was. I shouldn't have been asleep anyway. It is nearly noon."_

_Erik decided to sieze the opportunity that had presented itself, and stepped forward into the light of the room. _

_"Hello."_

Erik saw the young woman jump at his sudden appearance, and fought the urge to smirk. Startling people was such an entertaining business.

"Um, h-hello," she stuttered out, clearly set on edge. She was looking at him curiously from beneath the shadow of her bangs. Her demeanor was suddenly cautious and withdrawn.

"Christine, this is Erik," Nadir introduced. "Erik," he jestured to Christine, "the young woman that I was telling you about."

Erik moved to do as courtesy demanded and shook her hand gently. He felt as though if he had tried to hold on to her any tighter, she might have shattered. Her hand was small, long fingered and warm. She clasped his own hand firmly.

"A pleasure," Erik choked out and pulled his hand away as quickly as he could without being rude. Revealing himself had been hard enough, but his faux bravado was quickly fading in the face of Christine's beauty.

He could count on one hand the minutes he had ever spent with those of the fairer sex. He was afraid that his inexperience was about to rear its ugly head, and so he did the safest thing he could; he retreated.

"Forgive me," he said to the room in general, "but I must return home. I thank you for your hospitality, Nadir. Christine," he nodded to her. "Once again, a pleasure."

And with that, he bowed out of the room.

---

Christine sat on one of the chairs in front of Nadir's desk. "Is he alright?" She asked, glancing in the direction Erik had exited.

"He is seldom any other way," Nadir said. "Now, what have you done so far to try and find employment?"

She sighed, ignoring the non-answer he had given her. "What _haven't_ I done would be a better question. I even applied at Madame's Menagerie, but they won't hire anyone under 21 and they're not hiring anyway. No one's hiring."

"I see. Do you have a resume?"

Christine nodded and pulled a tiny flash drive from her pocket and set on the desk. "It's all on there. Work experience, references... everything."

"And schooling? What about furthering your education?"

"Sure, give me thirty-grand and I'd be more than happy to go back to college."

"A nurse, wasn't it?"

"Yes, I wanted to be a nurse, but that isn't an option," Christine's eyes were beginning to fill with tears. She was too drained, physically and emotionally, to deal with a high stress situation. "I'm so sorry, Nadir." She ran her hands across her cheeks, embarrassed to find she was crying. "I'm so grateful for your help." She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. "I just need a little more time to figure this out. I'll check the area again to see if anyone's hiring now. Who knows." She tried to smile. "This is a different part of town. Maybe they'll need help here."

Nadir looked like he was stuck between saying something kind and saying something helpful. Neither won out, and so he said something true. "You must find something soon."

Christine fought the urge to burst into tears and shout that she wasn't an idiot and that she most certainly knew that already. The fact that, for the moment, he was her source of food and shelter, prevented her. She instead nodded in agreement, thanked him again, and retreated to her temporary room.

She locked the door behind her, and sat on the floor in front of the window, letting the noon sun wash over her as she let the tears come.

–

Ziza Khan sat quietly, smiling as she watched her young son play a light, simple tune on his piano. They were in a part of the conservatory where they would not be disturbed, and one of the pianists was standing over Reza, correcting and praising him in turn.

The song ended and Reza immediately turned to her. A grin broke across his face when she started clapping.

"A wonderful job, darling. Have you learned any other songs?"

"I learned part of one," Reza replied. "But you don't want to hear it until I know the whole thing. When you come watch me tomorrow, I'll know it." He said confidently. "Can I go play now?"

"Are you finished with Mr. Piel?"

Mr. Piel gave an affirmative wave of his hand. Rookheeya told Reza to go play in the back yard, and come in when she called him for dinner.

Reza almost ran straight into his father when the older man opened the door to the room. He barely slowed for a quick goodbye, then he was off and running.

"Where is he off to in such a hurry?" Nadir asked her.

"I'm sure he's going to spy on our new guest," she answered, her tone disapproving.

Mr. Piel gathered his music sheets and discreetly left the couple alone.

"Azizam," Nadir spoke softly, "she is only a child in need of help. Would you not hope for the same help for Reza, if he were in her place?"

"Don't you sweet talk me. She is _not_ a child, Nadir, she is a woman." Rookheeya stood abruptly and went to stand by the piano. "And we owe her nothing."

"I know you do not agree with her staying here-"

"Can you fault me for it?" She asked angrily. Her hand was curled into a fist that looked ready to punch a hole in the top of the piano.

"I cannot." He answered quietly. "But I ask you, do not punish her for my mistake."

"You are in no position to request anything from me, I have Reza to think about," She said coldly. "I want her gone by the end of the week."

_ _

A/N:

Thank you so much to anyone who has review/read this story so far. I can't apologize enough for keeping you all waiting. I hope you like this chapter and the ones to follow! And if you could review to let me know what you think (or even just that you're still reading! ^_^'), I'd be so grateful!

Azizam: Sweetheart


	5. In Which a Deal is Struck

A/N: Thanks to my reviewers! I'm so glad you all enjoy what I've written. My Internet is on the fritz, so I can't reply individually to every one, but know that I appreciate all of you.

**In Which a Deal is Struck**

Erik sat on his bed, holding a closed book in his lap. Instead of the flurry of thoughts that normally kept him awake long into the night, only one thing stood out in his mind. The image of the girl, Christine. He felt the mask that so effectively matched his porcelain skin.

She hadn't noticed.

The look on her face when he revealed himself had been surprise, not horror. Not what he had expected. The rational part of his brain reminded him that he _had_ left rather abruptly. Perhaps she had not seen him long enough to register his appearance. Or, he realized abruptly, she was an unobservant simpleton. He tried to change the picture of her in his mind from that of a wide-eyed beauty to a simpering, doe-eyed imbecile.

It didn't take.

Her features melted back into the soft ones he'd seen so briefly; the glowing skin, tousled hair, delicate hands. A stray thought entered his mind, wondering what it would feel like to smooth his thumb across her cheek. He would never know. He got up from his bed and started pacing. One thought led to another, until a million things were running through his head and he felt the usual restlessness descend upon him.

"Forget about her," he muttered to himself. "You'll never see her again."

He sat down at his desk, flipped open a drawing pad and rolled a pencil between his fingers. _Never..._

The pencil took on a life of its own, creating lines and shadows and textures, all uniform, yet unique. Artful smudges appeared when his fingertips smoothed over the paper. His memory was being transferred, made real in representation. He paused when he saw the finished drawing.

Something didn't look right.

Her eyes, he realized. They were dead. He had failed to capture their spark, their life. He angrily tore the page from the pad and crumpled it into a humiliated ball that fell heavily to the floor after it hit the wall.

- -

Nadir Khan was a man with a mission- to get Christine out of his house as soon as possible, without kicking her, penniless, out onto the street. He stared at the legal papers on the desk in front of him, eyes unseeing, and willed an answer to appear among the jumble of words and numbers. He wished that somewhere, anywhere, two-plus-two would equal four, instead of nine.

He had been holed up in his study since his wife's ultimatum, trying like mad to push his feelings of guilt aside and use his logical mind to procure a solution to his problem. His problem... No, not only his problem. His eyes suddenly focused at the same time as his brain and he realized he had been looking straight at the portion of paper that held the answer, the entire time.

His hand darted over to his phone. "Tessney, how are you? Excellent. Look, I need to ask your brother about something..."

- -

Christine's eyes shot open when she heard a rapping at her bedroom door.

"Yeah," she called sleepily. "Hang on a second, please."

She rose stiffly from the spot on the floor where she'd been laying in a sort of fitful twilight-sleep for the past few hours. The sun was no longer shining in through the window. The only light in the room was the lamp by the bed. In the warmth of the evening sun and the privacy of her room, Christine had unconsciously shed her jeans and shirt while she slept- a not uncommon occurrence. She grabbed her clothes and yanked them on quickly as whoever-it-was knocked again.

A more than slightly disheveled Christine opened the door, to find a man standing on the other side. "Yes?" She asked, trying to remember who he was.

He smiled with a great amount of charm, revealing many straight white teeth and a single dimple by the corner of his mouth. "I'm here to show you the layout of the house."

"Oh." Christine gave a tired smile in return and tried to smooth down her mass of curly hair. "Okay."

"Follow me," he said kindly and led her down the hall after she closed her door. "My name's Raoul, by the way." He winked at her.

Her face flushed in response and she ducked her head in an attempt to hide it. "Christine," she responded, her smile widening.

"I know," he said, "and it's nice to meet you." They took a right at the end of the hallway. "This is the way to the swimming room and, consequently, the back yard." He gestured to a glass door on their left, through which she saw the indoor swimming pool, surrounded by about a dozen or so white beach chairs. Raoul moved quickly, rattling off directions and room numbers mechanically while she hurried to keep up with him. Christine was so busy watching his body as he strode confidently through the corridors, she barely heard a word he said. In the back of her mind, she hoped he would end their journey back at her room so she wouldn't have to ask for directions, thus proving that she hadn't been paying attention.

They passed a fitness room, two guest bedrooms besides her own, a small kitchen, three small sitting rooms, two book-rooms, one huge library, and two music rooms, with their quick tour ending at the tall redwood door that led to the dining room.

"Sadly, this is where I leave you," Raoul said, turning his handsome face to her once again. "I'm sorry my time with you was so brief, but I have another errand to run once I am finished here. May I see you again, another time?"

Christine mentally shook herself. A perfectly beautiful specimin of a man was asking if he could see her again, and she was stuck on the fact that he had stupidly referred to their time together as an 'errand'. She drudged up a smile that almost felt real and nodded her head. "Sure."

"Great!" Raoul suddenly looked much happier than before. "I will see you later, then." He turned to leave, but turned back at the last minute. "How stupid of me," he laughed at himself, "I forgot to tell you. Dinner is ready and waiting, so go on in."

- -

Nadir was waiting for Christine, alone in the dining room. His wife and son had eaten earlier and gone to bed. There was a plate sitting in front of him, but he hadn't put anything on it. He was feeling so high strung and anxious, he could hardly breath. Both sides of his argument were locked into his mind, ready to be recited and explained at a moments notice.

The door to the dining room opened and his head shot up just as Christine walked in. He could see Raoul retreating in the distance.

"Christine," Nadir greeted her. "Please sit and have some dinner. I know it's a little late, but I thought you might be hungry."

She sat on the opposite side of the moderately sized table. "Thank you," she smiled. "I appreciate it."

He tried to make small talk while she served herself some chicken and brown rice. Eventually she noticed his unnatural interest in her daily life and looked at him, her expression one of confusion.

"What's going on?" Her voice was tired, and her shoulders drooped slightly. She expected him to kick her out right then and there, he realized.

"I have good news," he said quickly.

Her eyes brightened, but she spoke hesitantly. "Really?"

"I may have found a remedy to your unfortunate situation." He paused. "It may sound disagreeable at first, but think it through before you give answer."

"What is it?"

"Marriage."

"What?!" She shot out of her seat, shoving the chair out behind her. "To whom?!"

- -

"What the hell are you doing here?" Erik demanded, his mouth twisted in a scowl.

"I'm giving you a solution to your problems," Nadir responded calmly.

"Call next time and I'll come to your study _as always, _if you have need of me. This is my private home. No one is welcome here."

Nadir ignored Erik's anger and strode into the apartment. "I think you will change your mind once you hear what I have to say." He heard the door slam shut behind him and took this to mean the other man had caved a little.

"Well?" Erik stood tall, arms crossed in a menacing way. "Tell me what you thought was so important."

"Your happiness," Nadir said lightly, turning to face him. "As it pertains to your mother's will, of course."

Erik nodded stiffly, obviously supremely uncomfortable with the situation, but unwilling to show his feelings.

"You remember Christine, don't you? Lovely girl, slender, attractive-"

"Sounds like a chainsaw when she snores," Erik muttered.

Nadir cleared his voice. "A problem easily avoided by separate rooms and padded walls."

Erik narrowed his eyes. "What?" He said slowly, his voice deep and deadly.

"Erik," Nadir said, his voice forced-cheerful, "I've found you a wife."

- -

A/N:

I noticed a continuity error in Nadir's wife- her name! I've fixed it so that she has only one, now. Oops! Haha. I hope you all like this chapter. Keep letting me know what you think! I adore all of your reviews. Even if you haven't reviewed, I see all of the watchers and favoriters of this story, so thanks to you too! And if you don't want to leave a review here, you can always PM me or email me.

Thanks!


	6. In Which Desperation Deals a Blow

A/N: Okay, so my last update was a long time ago. **cough** My only excuse is that my muse left me, and I haven't written anything in quite a while, especially not fanfics. I kind of consider this my grand return to the stage – er, Opera House – and would just like to say thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. It is because of your reviews that I am determined to finish this thing, no matter how long it takes (besides the fact that I actually quite like this storyline)… But sooner is always better, right? ;)  
On to the story!  
_Previously:_  
_"Well?" Erik stood tall, arms crossed in a menacing way. "Tell me what you thought was so important."_  
_"Your happiness," Nadir said lightly, turning to face him. "As it pertains to your mother's will, of course."_  
_Erik nodded stiffly, obviously supremely uncomfortable with the situation, but unwilling to show his feelings._  
_"You remember Christine, don't you? Lovely girl, slender, attractive-"_  
_"Sounds like a chainsaw when she snores," Erik muttered._  
_Nadir cleared his voice. "A problem easily avoided by separate rooms and padded walls."_  
_Erik narrowed his eyes. "What?" He said slowly, his voice deep and deadly._  
_"Erik," Nadir said, his voice forced-cheerful, "I've found you a wife."_  
0000008)  
Silence reigned in the tiny room, while Erik turned recent events over in his mind. After barging in earlier, Nadir had assured him emphatically that he had composed a plan that would solve Erik's problems. The woman his lawyer found was suitable for fulfilling the obligations of his mother's damnable will. So he might have a wife, after all.  
_A wife…_  
His hand smoothed over the mask on his face, and his heart and his stomach seemed determined to switch places inside of him. He thought over his conversation with Nadir…  
*Earlier*  
"What did she have to say about all of this?" Erik demanded.  
He was furious, Nadir realized, but still curious… and more than a little desperate.  
"She was delighted at the prospect of marrying such a fine man." Nadir forced his smile not to fall from his face.  
Erik narrowed his eyes. "Do not come into my home and then lie to me. I won't allow it. Speak the truth or get out."  
Nadir let his smile slip, but reminded himself to stick to the plan. _'Don't be overly positive, or he won't trust the plan, idiot!'_  
"She is in a financial bind as well," Nadir admitted, "so you are truly on a common footing there. But I believe her situation to be a bit more desperate. You would be doing the woman a great favor. You would be saving her from a life of poverty and misery." He wasn't lying.  
Erik's demeanor softened. He glanced at the drawing tacked to the wall. _Poverty and misery._ "And she agreed to _all_ of the terms?"  
Nadir hesitated.  
"No, then," Erik ground out.  
"It's not that, Erik. She has agreed, but... There is something I neglected to tell you earlier. According to the law, a couple must be married for six months before either spouse is entitled to any settlement in the case of a divorce."  
"Preposterous. There is no need for a _settlement_. I will simply give her the money and send her off."  
"You forget where the money is coming from."  
"But there was no stipulation for length of marriage in the will!"  
"Yes, but unfortunately there is a stipulation in the law itself – one set in place to dissuade people from attempting what you are doing. Inheritance laws here are very strange, but very strict, Erik. You must remain married for six months, or you and whomever you marry will risk being charged with fraud. That will carry a hefty sentence."  
Erik sighed, as weary and irritated as an exhalation ever was, before lowering himself onto a chair. "Better and better. Thanks mother."  
He pinched the pressure point between his thumb and forefinger; he was getting a headache. He thought of his alternatives, and selfishly realized he didn't care for any of them. And that was the point, wasn't it? He wanted to compose, and if enduring six months of a farcical marriage would allow him to spend the rest of his life with that luxury, he would do it.  
"Very well, Nadir." It was all he could force himself to say. Then he found the breath to ask one last question, one that had been in the back of his mind since the start of their conversation. "Is it that girl, the one staying with you?"  
Nadir nodded. Erik had always been clever. "Her name is Christine Daae. I suggest you come to my home as soon as possible to complete the necessary paperwork." _The sooner Christine is away from Ziza, the better…_ "Today, if you are able. In fact, come for dinner, if you would like," he suggested.  
Erik released his hold on the pressure point. It was doing nothing to stem the pain mounting behind his eyes. "Very well."  
Nadir felt the knot of anxiety in his chest slowly coming loose. "Excellent. I will see you at six o'clock."  
000008)  
Christine thought of jumping from an airplane and just ending it all. She frowned. Too bad she couldn't afford the ticket. Laying on the plush covers of her borrowed bed, she couldn't help but feel like a selfish, greedy snake. When Nadir had told her of his solution to her problem, she had been disgusted.  
_"No!" _She could still hear herself practically shout at him. This wasn't 1850, people didn't marry each other for money, she wasn't a prostitute… All the reasons she threw at him, and he countered every one. It wouldn't be for long, he had said, and she wouldn't be a prostitute.  
_"Six months, Christine. Then you two can divorce, go your separate ways."_  
He made it sound so easy. A business transaction, nothing more.  
_Marrying for money… Is that the kind of person I've become? What happened to marrying for love?_  
The pillow beneath her was practically saturated with her angry tears. She wasn't sobbing dramatically, nor was she weeping like a banshee for the loss of a fairytale future. No, she was simply too tired to do anything else. She had no other remedy for her situation, not one that seemed to align itself so perfectly before her. And she hated it. So she let herself cry.  
Suddenly she remembered a recurring nightmare. Every time, in her mind's eye she was an animal stuck in a too-small pen in the middle of a never ending field. The bars had cut into her skin, shrinking around her, squeezing so tight she could feel her bones creak and her lungs fighting for room to move. No matter how hard she tried, even with all the freedom she had ever dreamed of surrounding her, she could not break free of the cage.  
Christine had never thought the nightmare would come true.  
She had just worked up the nerve to go in the bathroom to wash her face, when a knock sounded on her bedroom door.  
"Hang on," she called. Staring at her reflection, she fleetingly wondered if she would ever recognize herself again. Wetting a washcloth, she quickly wiped her face clean and tried to erase the evidence of her weakness. "Come in," she said, stepping back into her room.  
The door opened and the young man she had met the day before came in. "Hello, Christine!" His greeting was so jovial and carefree that Christine almost shoved him back out of the room. She wasn't in the mood for so much charm. "I've been sent to tell you that dinner will be at six o'clock, and you must attend."  
Christine wasn't in the mood to be ordered around, either, but she knew it wasn't _his_ fault. "Thank you for letting me know, um… I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name."  
"Raoul," the man replied, a wide smile still stretching across his attractive face. "I'm sure you'll remember my name next time," he said confidently, and with a dashing wink he left her alone in the bedroom again.  
Christine glared at the closed door. Well, he was quite full of himself, wasn't he? Pushing their irritating encounter into the back of her mind, she looked at the clock and realized it was already five o'clock.  
_Great…_  
An hour to get ready, and she still needed to shower. She stripped down and turned on the faucet in the tub. Once she was in the shower, she allowed her mind to wander a little, or at least _tried_ to let it wander. Like a trained animal, it seemed only to wander back to one thing, the only subject she wanted a break from.  
Nadir had told her before that he would try to get everything signed that night. Maybe _he_ would be attending dinner, and that was why she had to go. Her nerves were shot and she wondered anxiously what would happen when she saw _him_ - her savior and the source of her distress, Erik.  
00000008)  
"You are crazy!" Ziza fumed.  
"But-"  
"No Nadir! You are out of your mind if you think this will work. You know that man. You know how fragile he is, and you _know_ what will happen."  
"It will be fine. I promise."  
"I can't trust your promises." Her words were bitter.  
"You can trust this one."  
Ziza glared half-heartedly at her husband when he walked over to where she was standing and wrapped his arms around her waist.  
"Everything really will be fine," he said. "Erik is a good man, and Christine is a good woman. Perhaps this will be the start of something wonderful."  
Ziza shook her head and embraced her husband. "How can something wonderful come out of _this_?"  
00000008)  
Gloves, Erik decided, were the best course of action. His hand was still damaged from his outburst the other day, and he had no desire to see the disgust on his… _fiancée's… _face when she saw it. It would be hard enough to deal with her disgust for his face. He made sure his mask was secure, that it blended into his face as well as it could, using the for-once-uncovered mirror on the wall. When he realized he was fidgeting with it out of nervousness, he abruptly stopped.  
There was no reason to be nervous. This girl was nothing special, and the arrangement they were entering into was embarrassing, a disgrace for both of them. He stared at his reflection, pale and strange, hideous beneath a shameful mask.  
_A disgrace… Especially for her._  
Within seconds he had strewn the sheet over the mirror once more. He was tired of looking at himself – tired of hoping to see something different staring back at him, and always being disappointed. He looked at the clock. Almost time to go. Before he left for Nadir's, he knew he had to establish the facts in his mind. If he held no illusions, he wouldn't feel so anxious, wouldn't make a fool out of himself.  
So he stamped each and every hard, unforgiving truth into his mind. He was poor, she was destitute, and were it not for the considerable fortune hanging before them, neither would have looked twice at the other. Part of him wanted to look down on her for agreeing to Nadir's plan, but how could he when had done the same?  
He held in a sigh and readied himself to leave for dinner.  
It was a marriage of convenience, a sham in every sense of the word. He would expect nothing from her, and she should expect less than nothing from him. He turned his head down, and his eyes lost were shadowed inside the holes of his mask. He would make it all perfectly clear to her before the evening was over.  
000000#8)  
It was ten past six when Christine walked into the dining room. An apology died on her tongue when she realized there was no one in the room waiting for her.  
"Maybe my clock's fast…"  
Platters of food were displayed on the table, steaming and ready to be eaten. Places were set elegantly, ready for each guest to remove the napkin from the plate and start filling it with tender pieces of baked chicken and sliced potatoes. She paused, wondering where everyone else was, then decided to sit where she had the day before.  
Though she was hungry, she didn't touch the food; the last thing she wanted was to insult the man who had kindly allowed her refuge in his home. When a servant came up and offered her a drink, however, she took it. She let the carbonation play out on her tongue, trying to distract her thoughts from what was sure to be a very uncomfortable evening.  
The sound of slow and deliberate footsteps came from the hall, and she turned to see who it was. Her stomach slid to the soles of her feet when she saw the man who entered. It was the man she had met before, when she was half-asleep, and she realized she hadn't gotten a good look at him before.  
_What's wrong with his face?_  
His face was covered from forehead to jaw with something that shined like skin-colored plastic. The mask ended at the bottom of his nose, revealing his mouth, and there were two holes from which she could see his dark eyes catch the light.  
He halted when he caught sight of her, and his mouth hardened into an unforgiving line. Her stomach suddenly left her feet and disappeared altogether, leaving her with the hollow feeling that if she went through with this she might never be the same again.  
"Ah good, you're both here." Nadir strode into the room, effectively shattering the glass wall of silence that had descended between Erik and Christine. "Please, take a seat, Erik, here if you could." He pulled out the seat next to Christine for him, then walked around the table and took a chair across from the two of them. "Here are the papers." He set a leather binder on the wood top of the table and pulled out several stacks of papers.  
Christine eyed them with trepidation. Sticking out from the edges of the documents were dozens of bright-colored tabs.  
_Please don't let those be all the places I have to sign._

00000000000#8)

A/N – I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you think of it! Next chapter to come soon.


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